7 February 2010 (Sunday) - Painting Trellises

Yesterday I had four pints of assorted stouts and porters all over 5% ABV at Dover beer festival. A crafty half (well, a pint) on the way to Folkestone harbour, and then a crafty half (half a gallon) in the Lifeboat. And one or two more beers after that. So in theory I should have been rather the worse for wear this morning. I woke feeling remarkably chipper.

The provisional plan for today involved travelling to Saltdean for a spell of kite-flying. But it looked to be a cold day, and I decided that I didn’t really want to drive for over two hours just to stand and shiver in a swamp. I suspect that in actual fact, things were nowhere near as bad as I suspected, and I probably missed a good day. Maybe next time.

A bit of brekky, and I then phoned my Internet provider. For all that I now have a connection three times faster for a third of the price of what it once was, as always things are never as wonderful as they might seem. My 5Mb connection is now down to only 2.7Mb. The nice man on the phone said that it fluctuates on a ten day cycle. This sounds a bit odd to me, but I shall check the speed for the next two weeks. I also asked about my router. A couple of days ago a new router arrived in the post from the Internet company. It would seem that whenever anyone changes anything on their broadband package, the nice people send out a new router just in case. He said I could carry on using the old one. I was glad about that – I didn’t want to fiddle about if I didn’t have to.

And then to the garden. For all that it was rather cold, next door’s clematis is already beginning to sprout, and if I don’t get the trellis painted in the next week or so, it will soon be too overgrown to actually get at. There are six runs of trellis that needed painting. I got five done before I finally succumbed to the cold.

From the warmth of an upstairs window I then surveyed the rest of the fences. Normally every spring I have a concerted fence-painting session. A good way to waste a month, if nothing else. But this year I might be lazy. The shed needs a lick of paint, but the fence panels themselves are (in the main) in a good state and don’t really need painting. There are one or two bare spots on the posts and the tops do look as though they need going over. I might just do those this year and leave the panels until next time. Having said that, there is one panel which is is a bit of a state. Next door has heaped soil up against the panel, and over the last few years the thing has seriously rotted. I wonder if there is a way of bodging a repair on my side rather than replacing the entire panel.

I then fell asleep whilst playing NeverWinter, before checking my emails. It’s been suggested that In a couple of weeks time we could go as a group to London to go on a guided tour of Whitechapel and visit some of the places where Jack the Ripper did his thing. Now when I say “guided tour”, it didn’t take too much effort to find several route recommendations on line. So we shan’t be joining an organised party, rather we’ll be doing our own thing. The (very) provisional plan is to do this on Thursday Feb 25, leaving Ashford at 10.15am to be at Whitechapel for about mid day (ish), walk the route with a beer or two on the way, and end up with a pizza somewhere.

If any of my loyal readers would like to come along, please let me know.

6 February 2010 (Saturday) - Dover Beer Festival

I couldn’t sleep – probably the excitement of anticipation. Dover Beer Festival is one of the year’s highlights – last year coming in at position #5 against some pretty stiff competition. So I was up and ironing at 5.30am, and had watched three episodes of BattleStar Galactica before I finally kicked my beloved out of her pit.

A quick bit of brekky whilst checking the Internet. A quick visit to YoVille – I seem to be spending more time there than in NeverWinter these days. Probably because I get kissed more in YoVille.

Two days ago I mentioned about the rather nasty messages the webmaster of Beer in the Evening had been posting in the private forum of their web site. This morning I see that the chap has deleted the entire private forum. What a way to run a website.... they are utterly dependent on the good will of others to do endless unpaid work for them. And rather than thanking them, they insult their unpaid workers.

And talking of beer, to Dover Beer Festival. After a bit of fiddling about with trains, eight of us joined the queue outside the Maison Dieu in Dover. Attendance was noticeably down this year with a noticeable absence of the “Eurostar regulars” that I only ever meet once a year.

The plan was to only have a couple of beers and swiftly move on. As I have remarked before God laughs when we make plans. We started off sensibly enough on Larkin’s Porter. But then the silly names kicked in, and a half of “hung, drawn and portered” got guzzeled, followed swiftly by some “Dark Galleon” and some “Old Grumpy Porter”. A half of each was two pints, and I was ready to move on, but everyone else was still on their second ale. So I got some more tokens. “Grandma’s Rich Porter” slipped down very well, followed swiftly by “Old Stoatwobbler” and “St Mary’s Stout”. And then a “Belgian Double” which had both a saucy name and an 8% ABV.

And so, having had far too much to drink we left the festival. A breakfast roll at the station, and so to Folkestone where we suddenly realised how thirsty we were, and so popped into the Park Gate Hotel for a crafty half. We soon downed that, and wasted a few minutes playing silly beggars with the mobility scooter that was parked outside before wandering off.

We climbed walls, waved bottoms at passing cars and generally scared the normal people all the way to “the Lifeboat” where we set about more beer and some food. More beer and food is always good, especially when the pub is giving out free leek soup. And we cheered the England team as they played rugby. Or that is, most of our party cheered the England team. I cheered the chap in the blue kit. There were fifteen in white, fifteen in red and only one in blue. And he was charging all over the place too. What the blue team lacked in numbers, they made up for in enthusiasm.

Three pints later we staggered round to the East Cliff Tavern where we played darts and piano, though not at the same time, and after a few more beers we staggered off to get the 10pm train home.

I suspect I shall have a headache in the morning…

5 February 2010 (Friday) - Dull

Normally I get a good night’s sleep before a late shift, but I was rather restless last night. My back was playing up. Perhaps I need to go on a diet again? Now that (finally) all the left over puddings from last weekend have been eaten, a diet might be a good idea for a couple of weeks. Perhaps a diet and some exercise too. It’s been some months since I last took the pedal bike anywhere, and I’ve been feeling rather worn out and listless for the last couple of weeks. I shall start the new regime tomorrow with a brisk walk around some seaside towns.

The plan for the morning was to do the ironing, but by the time I’d had some brekky, I couldn’t be bothered. I’ll do it later.

Instead I went to YoVille, and tried to kiss Lisa’s mother (again). But no joy – the thing wouldn’t load. Having booted up to a blue screen of death and a message that Windows has had a serious error, I was a tad perturbed. Bearing in mind the PC still finds an unknown device every time it starts, I’m wondering if the thing’s days are numbered.

And so to work. The car needed petrol, so I went to the other Tesco. Ashford features two Tescos. Only one is open when I’m on early starts, so I went to the other one. The staff there weren’t anywhere near so hostile. I bought some shirts, and then to work. Which was dull. It usually is.

And then home to watch Shaun the Sheep on DVD. I like Shaun…

Today was dull…

4 February 2010 (Thursday) - Commercial Acumen?

Up with the lark (as usual), and after a quick episode of BattleStar Galactica (I’m now half way through season three) I set off to Tesco. Among other things, I needed a shoe polishing brush. I found the polish, but couldn’t see any brushes, so I asked a employee who was fiddling with a till. (Note I use the word “employee” and not “assistant”). I asked if they had brushes. She didn’t even turn her head when she brushed me off with a curt ”no!”. As she snarled her reply, so I saw the brushes I was looking for.

I shall go to Asda tomorrow.

And so to work, where I was asked to show round some visitors from a private healthcare establishment. Now this seemed odd to me. I’m sure that Sainsbury’s wouldn’t welcome a contingent from Waitrose and show them round. Let alone give them an in-depth spiel on their business practice. But what do I know? I must admit I’m feeling rather negative about work at the moment, and so I am likening myself to the biblical centurion – I am merely a man subject to higher authority.

And then we had a tidy up. Apparently we are getting a VIP visitor next week. That will be nice. I expect I will be giving my loyal readers updates on this as time goes by. In the meantime, let’s just say that I was surprised to find that this particular VIP is still alive. I thought he’d croaked a few years ago.

In between tidying and giving away commercially sensitive information we posed for photos. One of our number is speaking at a scientific symposium next week, and photos are always good at these sorts of thing. Especially if you are considering a career with International Rescue.

And then home again to hear some very odd noises and giggling. “My Boy ^TM ” had found his old yo-yo, and was up to his old tricks with it. I can remember him being particularly talented with it in his youth. A talent I never shared.

I blogged a few weeks ago about “Beer in the Evening” - what was once a wonderful website is now in ruins. There are errors and inaccuracies on Beer in the Evening that have been there for years. There is one (the duplication of St Leonards in Sussex) that I reported over two years ago that is still awaiting correction. I and so many other people have offered to give the bloke an hour of our time, unpaid, every evening to put right the mistakes and to clear the backlog of pubs waiting to be added. (A backlog of suggestions going back to November 2007)

This evening I had a look on the forum on Beer in the Evening. For all that I’ve been a firm advocate of that website, I’ve never really used the forum that much. Sadly it has been all but destroyed by concerted trolling action. There is a protected “regulars” section which isn’t open to the hoi-polloi, and finally the absentee owner of the site has deigned to make an appearance. The owner appeared to tell his critics to shut up. He is adamant that he doesn’t want any help, and was rather rude in his dismissal of such offers.

Oh well, it’s ultimately his loss. It seems an odd way to run a business. If someone who has been contributing to your commercial success for years offers to work on a more regular basis for free, wouldn’t anyone with commercial acumen take them up on the offer?

3 February 2010 (Wednesday) - The News

One often hears the old adage “An Englishman’s home is his castle”. One rarely knows what it is supposed to mean. Mr Fidler of Surrey has converted his house into a castle, Knowing full well that he was breaking local planning laws, he hid his house behind a great big haystack for four years. Apparently if you build something that breaks planning laws but no one complains within four years, then you have got away with it. Those who have a cob about the whole thing claim that the haystack behind which he hid was an integral part of the building. Therefore the house “sans haystack” is now a different structure, and thus the four years have started again. It is a shame that some people don’t have something better to whinge about.

Perhaps their bile might be better vented at the tale of the pregnant nine year old child in China. Now I hardly claim to be an expert on matters oriental or obstetric, but I am somewhat perturbed to hear the nurse charged with looking after the child as saying “it was unclear how she had become pregnant.”

And in closing, a word of caution to the cat lovers among my loyal readers. If your moggie is generally anti-social, but is being uncharacteristically friendly, expect the worst. Oscar, the house cat in an American nursing home is a cantankerous old moggie. However he seems to be amazingly friendly with those on their way out. Staff in said nursing home have used the cat’s occasionally uncharacteristically friendly behaviour to successfully predict the deaths of fifty of their patients.

2 February 2010 (Tuesday) - Other People's Beleifs

Today’s radio carried the news that the Pope has spoken against the British government. He doesn’t like our equality legislation. Which is entirely his right, and I admire the strength of his belief that he stands up and publicly says so.

Don’t get me wrong – I don’t admire what he actually says - personally I think he’s talking rubbish (again). I myself have no problem with people of any shape, size, colour or sexual orientation. It doesn’t bother me if someone wants to have gender altering surgery. Good for them.

But it bothers the Pope. What particularly bothers him is that all this equality malarkey means that (in theory) his church may no longer be allowed to discriminate against employing people who follow a lifestyle that his religion says is wrong.

So the old “gay vicar” controversy has raised its head yet again. Surely this has been done to death? If you believe in what the Pope trots out, then you believe being gay is a sin. So you don’t do it. So there are no gay vicars. Q.E.D. End of discussion.

But there are gay vicars. These people, and everyone who claims to be Christian but feel there is a place for homosexuals in the church amaze me. The Bible says it’s wrong. That’s the end of it. Or can we pick and choose which piece of our sacred texts we are going to believe, and which we are going to ignore?

All of which has given an opposing bunch of crackpots a free hand to stir trouble. The morning’s news told of those who are openly gay and transsexual who are planning to apply for jobs within the church. And are doing so purely to get turned down, so that they can then mount costly legal battles. Why are they doing this? What do they really hope to achieve?

Meanwhile President Obama has cancelled the moon base, and no one cares.

1 February 2010 (Monday) - Plans...

This weekend is Dover beer festival. I see the beer list has been published. And again the beers are all “silly strength”, with nothing below 5% ABV. Two years ago I got seriously out of my tree on their beers. This year I’m going to be taking it easy. Whilst the kids sit at home watching telly I shall have a couple of beers at Dover, then take the train to Folkestone and have lunch at Chambers Bar. Maybe a crafty pint in the Guildhall and the Lifeboat, then back to a friend’s house where we can slob in front of the telly. Or that is the provisional plan. All I know for sure is that I intend to be on the 9.52am train from Ashford International to Dover Priory, and from there on in, all is flexible.

Talking of beer, it had been suggested that Feb 21^st might be wasted at Wittersham beer festival. I see that the afternoon will be featuring Morris dancers. I will have to review my plans for that day. I can’t stand Morris dancing. What is this association between good beer and Morris Dancers? It’s hardly painting ale in a good light.

There’s been a minor change to the diary dates for the year – Dover kite festival (planned for late July) has been cancelled. It would seem the local council wasn’t prepared to fund it. I do hope that Kent County Council is prepared to continue funding the Teston kite weekends for this year.

Another thing which isn’t being funded any more is the American space program. Since money is tight, NASA’s budget has been substantially reduced, and the plans would be that rather than having space flight technology of their own, American astronauts will purchase tickets on other people’s space-going vehicles.

Let’s not be surprised when the Russians, Chinese and private enterprise decide they want all their limited rocket spaces for themselves.